Decisions
by plottingeternal
Summary: For most people, they only face their fears every so often. For her, it was constant. For the Dementor’s Kiss challenge at darkones over at LiveJournal.


** Decisions**

by **Marie9000 **

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**Summary:** For most people, they only face their fears every so often. For her, it was constant.

**Warnings:** Blood, mild violence, mild sexual suggestion.

**Notes:** For the Dementor's Kiss challenge at lj communitydarkones . Include two of the following: sweat, blood, silver, vomit, fever, sex, a lie, tears, closet. Include this quote: When you fear, the fear becomes powerful. Phobia: Decidophobia- Fear of making decisions.**  
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Decisions.

They always haunted her, never letting her be at ease. While other children would have nightmares of ghosts and monsters, her nightmares consisted of the looming questions and decisions of the next day.

* * *

She learned a long time ago what happened when you made decisions. You were punished for them.

She was four-years-old and her mother had woken her, frightening her with a bruised and swollen eye. The sensitive skin was beginning to turn a pretty shade of purple and would later, no doubt, become a nasty black and blue.

Her mother had made her hurry out of bed and dressed her. When she had asked why, her mother said she had decided they were going on a trip. She noticed more marks on the almost fragile arms that fastened the small robes around her.

Before she could ask what they were, he mother had grabbed her hand and hurriedly gone down the large staircase that led to the front door. Her mother had reached for the door, but found it locked. She had sighed and tried to unlock it with her wand, she had even thrashed against it, but it hadn't opened.

Her mother had then smiled sweetly and told her to wait right there, and not to move. She had turned and gone into the study where her husband waited. The small girl was left standing before the large front door, her small hands playing with the edge of her white dress.

She had stood, wide-eyed, as she heard her mother scream. "I swear Augustus, if you don't open that door I will break it down!" Her father's response was so quiet, the girl hadn't heard it, but her mother had. "I will not blindly do what you say anymore! I am tired of letting you make decisions for me; I am my own person! I'm leaving you!"

There had been a loud crack, and her mother's piercing scream. She had run into the study and found her father standing over her mother's body. Her mother had hit her head when she had fallen and her blood was now beginning to pool around her.

Her father had looked at her, wild-eyed. He'd bounded over and grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the body. She was thrown into the blood and onto her mother's limp figure.

Augustus stood over her and had said, "Do you see? Do you see what happens when you disobey me?"

She had just sat, staring at her hands, stained with her mother's dark, red blood. Her pretty white dress, which had flared around her, was slowly turning a dark burgundy.

Augustus suddenly grabbed her, bringing her face in front of his, forcing her to look at him. "Remember, when you make any decision, you will be punished. You do as I say and nothing else. Understand?"

She had just nodded weakly, her eyes pricked with tears. He dropped her back on the floor and summoned a house elf to clean her up and take her back to bed.

* * *

Later on, some would tell her that her father had meant that he would make important, life changing decisions, not simple everyday questions. She found that when asked what she would like to drink with dinner would cause her breath to quicken. If someone asked her which homework assignment she wanted to do first she would experience a panic attack.

Through most of her time at Hogwarts she had been somewhat relieved of her stress. In class, her professors would give her orders, and outside of class her friends, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, would tell her what to do. However, there were still many times when a choice was left to her.

One such time was in Potions. Professor Snape had had them mixing an extremely complicated antidote. He had stood, and asked her, "Which is the next ingredient, monkshood or boomslang?"

She had stared at him and then took notice of those around her. She had suddenly become very warm and her breathing very rapid. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't, Snape had started to glare at her, "Well, Miss Rookwood. Decide."

That one word had caused her eyes to widen. The palms of her hands were moist with sweat. She got out of her seat as her eyes started to water, and she had ran out of the classroom. Not wanting to face anyone, she'd sought sanctuary in a broom closet.

She met the floor as soon as the door was closed, and she didn't come out till dinner. She had lost points and been the laughingstock of her house for a month because of her actions. Not to mention how angry Snape had been.

* * *

At sixteen, she found herself to be the object of Aiden Mulciber's affections. Aiden was a tall, intimidating seventh year and the son of an influential Death Eater. He frightened her, and she had mostly tried to avoid him over the years.

She had gone to Pansy and Millicent for help. All she received was, 'Oh, his family's well off, and completely pure." It didn't help that Aiden had contacted her father. Augustus had sent her an owl telling her that he had made plan's with Aiden's father, and that when she graduated they would be married.

A week after she had received the letter, Aiden cornered her in the dungeons. "I'm to be your husband," he'd said, pressing her up against the wall. His mouth was by her ear; she could feel every word he said. "You'll do as I say from now on," he'd told her, bruising her wrist. "Do you understand?" She'd nodded, starting to cry from the pain. He'd smiled at that, unzipping his trousers, "Good, now get on your knees."

The rest of the year, she did whatever he said, whenever he said. Most of the time she didn't want to do it, but it also felt so good and easy to have him decide things for her. If anything went wrong, he would be punished, not her.

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Now she was older, almost thirty. She had given Aiden three sons, and a daughter. She had watched as Aiden had disciplined the boys with his belt till they were completely and utterly obedient. She had little to do with their upbringing; they practically ignored her altogether.

When their first son, Jonathan was born, Aiden had told her she was not allowed to raise any sons they would have. He would raise them, and make sure they would become faithful, devoted servants of the Dark Lord. He didn't care about their beautiful daughter, Adriana.

She stood in the circle, her body covered with black, her forearm burning from the Dark Mark. All around her was a sea of black robes and white masks. Beside her, Aiden stood looking proud, surrounded by his three sons. She felt a dull throb in her head from the constant murmuring.

Minutes later, there was complete silence. She looked up and gasped. The Dark Lord, a man she had never seen and secretly hoped never to see, had taken his place before them all. His red slits regarded them all, seeming to linger on her for a moment before continuing on. She shook, slightly. She had never been particularly devout to the Dark Lord, she didn't support him the way Aiden wanted her too.

"It has come to my attention that one of you wavers in your faithfulness to me. As you know, I do not reward those who are unfaithful," he said. Looking to his right he ordered, "Bring out the girl!"

She watched horrified as her own daughter, Adriana, was brought out. She was obviously frightened and shook in the arms of the large Death Eater that carried her.

Turning to Aiden, she looked in his eyes for an answer. He just sneered and pushed her forward suddenly. Falling to her knees before her daughter, she looked up to the Dark Lord. He was glaring at her.

"You will now prove yourself to me," the cold, rasping voice told her. "You will decide, which is more important to you, your daughter or our cause. If you choose your daughter, you will both be killed. If you choose the cause, you must kill you daughter."

Her eyes widened, her daughter disappeared from her vision and she looked to Aiden. The man she had depended on for years. If she decided, she would be punished; you are always punished when you make decisions.

"Tell me what to do," she pleaded, almost choking on her sobs. Aiden had stared at her for a moment, realizing the truth, before smiling. "The cause."

* * *

Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode watched in horror as Amiria Rookwood, now Amiria Mulciber, plunged a dagger into her own daughter's heart. The child screamed out, and the mother cried, gathering the child in her arms. The sobbing mother sat on the floor, leaning against her husband's legs, cradling her dead child.

Pansy clutched Millicent's arm, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Why?" she asked in a strangled voice. Millicent stood perfectly still, her face completely calm and devoid of emotion, except for the tears that slowly crept from her eyes.

"When you fear, the fear becomes powerful," she whispered.


End file.
